


White Knight

by RaccoonBlues



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Era, M/M, Witchcraft, cat Napoleon, witch Illya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 12:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaccoonBlues/pseuds/RaccoonBlues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black cats were supposed to be the perfect familiars for young witches.  Too bad Illya was far from a perfect witch.  He may not be very good at using his powers, but he didn't need them to provide a good home for the stray cat he let into his life.  He would wish he was better with magic when life with his new pet gets complicated.</p><p>or</p><p>The story of how infamous cat burglar Napoleon Solo found himself turned into an actual cat and stole the heart of a young Russian immigrant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Illya

Snow fell fast and thick around Illya as he made his way home.  It was cold in New York, the frigid air sinking its teeth deep into him.  Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t be too much of a problem, Illya had experienced such winters back home in Russia, but circumstances weren’t very normal for Illya at the moment.  His good winter coat had seen the last of its days about a week ago.  It had been a hapless victim of his rage.  He had flown into a fit after an encounter with a coworker, his coat as well as a potted plant had met with absolute destruction.  These fits of rage were nothing new, Illya had experienced them his whole life.  Back home in Russia they had proven helpful in keeping him alive, now they threatened to steal away his livelihood.  Anymore mishaps like this last one and Illya was sure to lose his job.

With his good coat a victim of blind rage Illya’s only option was to layer sweaters under his leather jacket for warmth until he could afford to buy a new coat.  This method usually did the trick, but on days like today the cold managed to sneak its way in against Illya’s skin.  It would take him ages to save up for a new coat.  He just hoped he could manage it before winter was through.

At least it had been warm on the bus.  Unfortunately Illya was no longer on the bus.  He was now making the trudge from his stop to his apartment.  It wasn’t much of a problem in the warmer months, but now in the dead of winter, the cold and snow made this short trip feel impossibly long.    Illya felt relieved when his building finally came into view.  He peered down into his jacket at the cat he’d picked up at the bus stop.

“We are almost home Pasha,” he told it. 

The cat, a pathetic looking black creature, had been hiding under the bench curled up in an old newspaper.  It had let out a pathetic meow when Illya walked by.  It had looked so sad and lonely when it peered out at him with its striking blue eyes that Illya couldn’t help but feel for it.  Illya had never seen a cat with eyes quiet like this one, they were so wide and expressive.  Those eyes projected a bone deep weariness that made this pitiful creature look all the more pathetic.  In a way it reminded Illya of himself, sad, lonely, and so very cold.  He could barely afford to feed himself, but Illya knew he couldn’t just abandon the poor creature.  Illya had scooped the cat up and hid it in his jacket.  The poor thing had been sopping wet and must have been far colder than Illya, exposed to the elements as it had been.  At least Illya was dry, or had been until he put the cat in his jacket.

Illya unlocked his apartment door and hurried inside.

“There now Pasha,” he told the cat.  “All safe now.  We will be warm soon.”

At least Illya hoped they would be warm soon.  His heater had been acting up lately.  He let the cat out of his jacket and set him on the floor.  He went to the heater and prayed it would turn on.  It made quiet the racket before kicking on.  Illya sighed in relief.  He turned to the cat who sat huddled and pathetic looking on his old tattered rug.

“There now Pasha, soon we will be warm,” he said.  “I will get you a towel.”

Illya rushed to his teeny linen closet and withdrew a towel.  He took it and knelt in front of the cat who had inched its way closer to the heater.  He wrapped the cat in the towel and began to rub its fur dry.  After a few moments of this treatment the cat yowled and wrestled its way out of Illya’s hands.  It darted under Illya’s battered old couch. 

“It is alright Pasha,” Illya said kneeling to look at the cat.  It glared at him.  “I will stop.  Would you like something to eat?”

Illya had never actually had a pet cat before.  He wasn’t sure how much they should weigh.  He assumed this one was too thin, after all it had been living rather poorly.  He couldn’t believe he was talking to it.  It’s not like it could understand a word he said.  Even if it did, he had no way of understanding it.  He had never been very good at communing with animals, he’s never had any proper instruction in the task either.  He had never had any proper instruction in the use of his magic.  That could be viewed as a tragedy, but not one Illya was willing to dwell on, at least not at the moment.  What was important was dinner for his tiny house guest.

Illya made his way to his tiny kitchen and began digging through the cupboads.  He wasn’t entirely sure what he should feed the cat.  He found a can of tuna in one of his cupboards.  Cats liked tuna, didn’t they?  He could at least try.  He rummaged through one of his drawers until he found his can opener.  He opened the can and emptied its contents onto a small plate.  He also filled a bowl with water and carried both out into his living room. 

The room was starting to warm up now that the heater was going and the cat had moved out from under Illya’s ratty old sofa.  It had sat itself next to the heater, trying to absorb as much heat as possible.  Illya crouched down and set the plate of tuna and water dish near the cat.  The cat’s ears twitched and it sniffed at the tuna.

“That is all I have Pasha,” Illya told it.  “I promise to pick up something better on my way home from work tomorrow.”  The cat sniffed at the tuna again before taking a tentative bite.  Once he’d decided he could eat the food Illya had given him the cat ate more readily.

Illya felt happy watching this little black cat.  He wasn’t sure why watching it eat made him happy, but it was the first time since Illya had immigrated from Russia that he had felt happy in the slightest.  Illya wasn’t even sure he had been happy in Russia, not in years, it was why he left.  After arriving in New York he wondered if he’d made a mistake.  Sitting with this small sad creature in front of his pitiful heater made him feel so much better about his choice to leave.  The cat finished its tuna and meowed and Illya. 

“I do not understand,” Illya said.  The cat meowed again.  “I never had a teacher.  Perhaps you could help me learn.”

The cat meowed at Illya again, this time it also put its paws on Illya’s knee.  Illya held his hand out and the cat rubbed his head against it.  He tried to focus what little magic he had on the creature.  He had never used his magic for anything other than violence.  It had powered his angry outbursts starting in his youth and continuing to this day, as recently as last week.  He had used it to give him strength against those who would hurt him and become fearsome enough to frighten away potential aggressors.  Now, he was trying to use it for something he’d never thought of using it for before.  He knew that it could be done, he’d heard plenty of stories about witches communicating with animals, he just wasn’t sure he himself had what it took to accomplish the task.

He tried to draw from that pit of energy he always pulled from in fights, but instead of focusing it on his fists to increase damage, he tried to focus it on the cat.  Illya felt the energy reach out.  The cat must have felt it as well, it had stopped meowing and was now staring at Illya curiously.  Its head was tipped to the side and its deep blue eyes where focused on Illya’s own.  Illya had no idea what he was doing.  He let go of the energy and leaned his head back against the arm of his couch.

“I am sorry, Pasha,” he told the cat.  He reached his hand out and scratched its head.  “I am no good at being witch.  I am no good at talking to cats, or at being nice to people at work, or anything.”

The cat meowed and crawled into Illya’s lap.  Illya continued to pet it.

“I am only good at being angry and nice to lonely cats,” Illya said.  The cat stretched up and bumped its head against Illya’s chin.  Illya smiled.  He had never being good at making friends, far better at making enemies.  This little cat, Pasha, seemed to enjoy his company and it warmed Illya’s heart.

Illya gathered the cat up into his arms and buried his face in its fur.  He was starting to understand why people kept pets.  Their presence scared away loneliness.  He decided that no matter what, he would be keeping Pasha.  He would definitely need to pick up food for him tomorrow.  Perhaps he could get Gaby to help him pick up supplies.  She wasn’t exactly his friend, but she was the closet he had come to ever having one.  It helped that she didn’t seem to be afraid of him, but she also hadn’t seen him truly angry yet.  She might be just as afraid of him as everyone else after she finally saw him have an outburst.  He hoped that didn’t happen before he got her to help him buy things for Pasha.  He hoped she knew more about cats that he did.  Other than food he wasn’t sure what was needed. 

Illya took a deep breath and set Pasha down.  When he stood up Pasha got on his hind legs and places his paws on Illya’s leg.  He meowed as if to protest being put down.

“I have to make my own dinner now, Pasha,” Illya told him.  He returned to his kitchen.  Pasha followed him.  Illya was too tired to make himself much of a meal.  He made himself a sandwich and ate it quickly.  Pasha made himself comfortable on Illya’s counter and watched Illya as he ate.  When he was finished Illya cleaned up, but left the bowl of water on the floor.  He got ready for bed as Pasha continued to follow him around the apartment.  Illya finally set his alarm and laid down to sleep.  He felt Pasha jump up onto the mattress.  He wondered up the bed until he was next to Illya’s head.  Illya watched as Pasha made himself comfortable, circling about on his pillow.  When he finally settled he was in position to stare at Illya’s face. 

Illya reached over and scratched behind Pasha’s ear.  Pasha closed his eyes and began to purr.  Illya had never heard a sound like that before.  He was surprised, but found it comforting.  He began to relax and drift off to sleep.  As Illya edged his way into dreamland, focused on the warmth and sound radiating from Pasha, he felt a wave of gratitude wash over him.  It seemed to be coming from Pasha, as if he was broadcasting his thanks to Illya. 

Maybe Illya could learn to communicate with Pasha after all.


	2. Napoleon

Napoleon had been hiding under that bench for hours.  He had tried to get the attention of several people throughout the time he’d been stuck there, but no one cared about a lousy stray cat.  If he’d been human still he could have any number of those same people eating out of his hand and giving him everything they owned.  Instead, he was stuck in a tiny body covered in fur that did little to protect him against the cold once it was soaked through by the snow.  Someone had left a newspaper and Napoleon had fashioned it as best he could with his paws into a shield against the cold.  It didn’t help much, but it was better than going without.

It got colder as day turned into night.  There were fewer and fewer people making use of this particular bus stop.  Napoleon resigned himself to spending yet another night cold, hungry, and slowly being buried alive in a snow drift.  A bus pulled up and let a single passenger off.  Napoleon did his best to keep any hope bottled up tightly.  This person was probably going to walk away just like the others.  Napoleon let out a pitiful sound as feet made their way past the bench.  He was sure they would continue on their path, but they didn’t.  This person actually stopped.  Napoleon meowed again.  The person stepped back towards the bench and crouched down.  Napoleon came face to face with a handsome young man with big blue eyes. 

The man stared at Napoleon for a moment before reaching under the bench to pull him out.  He used his big warm hands to stuff Napoleon into the space between the man’s sweater and his jacket.  It was the warmest Napoleon had been in days.  He snuggled into the heat of the man’s body.

“There now Pasha, I have got you,” the man said.  He spoke in Russian and Napoleon wondered what he was doing in New York.  Was he a defector or had he been exiled?  It’s not like Napoleon could ask, he couldn’t speak English or Russian in his current state.  This man was however, very attractive, Napoleon would kill to ask him questions, in whatever language he wanted.

Napoleon drifted in and out of consciousness as the man walked.  It was soothing to be bundled in big strong arms against the man’s chest.  Napoleon felt safe. 

“We are almost home, Pasha,” the man told him after a while.  Finally Napoleon felt them start to climb higher and realized the man was walking up a flight of stairs.  It wasn’t long before he let them into an apartment. 

“There now Pasha.  All safe now.  We will be warm soon,” the man said.

Napoleon was set on the floor as the man went to turn on the heater.  It was a battered old thing that didn’t look to promising.  It did kick on though and Napoleon felt relieved.  Soon, he would be warm. 

“There now pasha, soon we will be warm,” the man told him.  “I will get you a towel.”

The man disappeared for a moment before coming back with said towel that he used to rub at Napoleon’s fur with.  The man was clearly not used to handling animals and was too rough for Napoleon’s liking.  Napoleon yowled in protest and squirmed free of the man’s hands.  He hid himself under the man’s sofa.  He didn’t much like it, it was dusty and the couch was clearly worn and old judging by the fabric hanging from its bottom.  The man kneeled down to peek at Napoleon.

“It is alright Pasha,” he said.  Napoleon glared at him.  “I will stop.  Would you like something to eat?”  Napoleon’s ears perked up at the thought of food, he hadn’t eaten in days.

The man’s face disappeared.  Napoleon heard footsteps and the sound of a door opening and closing.  He assumed the man had gone to the kitchen.  Napoleon crawled out from under the couch.  He took a look around the apartment.  It was small and all of the furniture appeared to be well past its prime.  It was far below the quality of life Napoleon had experienced when he was still human.  He supposed it made sense.  The man was clearly not American and immigrants tended to live very poorly.  It seemed this man was doing what he could to get by, but wasn’t in much of a position to be helping anyone, even if that someone was a cat.

Napoleon made himself comfortable in front of the heater.  He supposed that beggars couldn’t be choosers.  At least someone was helping him.  There wasn’t a whole lot of luxury available to cats anyway.  He’d take whatever the Russian could give him.  The man came back at set a chipped plate full of canned tuna in front of him.  If Napoleon had been human he would have been insulted.  He actually still was, being a cat didn’t rob him of the class he’d taken so much pride in.  He sniffed at the food.

“That is all I have Pasha,” the man told Napoleon.  “I promise to pick up something better on my way home from work tomorrow.” 

Napoleon sniffed at the tuna again before taking a bite.  It was better than he expected, but that might have been because he was so hungry.  He cleaned the plate and drank some of the water that the man had brought out with the tuna.  He looked up and caught the man staring at him.  Napoleon meowed at him.

“I do not understand,” the man said.  Napoleon meowed again.  “I never had a teacher.  Perhaps you could help me learn.”   

Napoleon had no idea what the man was talking about.  He meowed again placing his paws on the man’s knee.  He wanted to say thank you, but he couldn’t, not in a way the man understood.  Not that the man was making much sense himself right now.  He held out his hand and Napoleon rubbed his head against it.  The man seemed to focus all of his attention on Napoleon.  Normally, he would be nervous if such a large man stared at him so intently, but Napoleon wasn’t nervous.  It was nice having this man’s attention.  He could only imagine what he’d do with it if he was still human. 

Napoleon usually spent his time in the company of beautiful women.  He had never made a habit of spending time with men, but he could see himself doting on this man.  Napoleon had money to spare stashed away and he would love to spend it on this man.  He could buy him a nice suit, or at the very least replace the terrible bowtie that the man was wearing. 

Something started to feel strange as they sat together.  Napoleon meowed again, something was happening and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.  Napoleon felt something wrap around him.  He quieted and focused on the man’s eyes.  The man’s touch felt safe, but whatever was happening in the air felt dangerous.  It was as if they were sitting on a precipice waiting for that inevitable shift to send them over the edge.  Napoleon wasn’t so sure he wanted to see what was on the other side.  The last time he had felt anything like this he had woken up with fur and four legs.  As quickly as it had come, the feeling vanished.  Instead of slipping into the unknown Napoleon and the man were left in a comfortable silence, free of tension.  The man leaned against the arm of the couch.  He looked disappointed with himself.

“I am sorry, Pasha,” he said to Napoleon.  He reached his hand out and scratched behind one of Napoleon’s ears.  “I am no good at being witch.  I am no good at talking to cats, or at being nice to people at work, or anything.”

That explained some things.  Napoleon had his last encounter with a witch obviously hadn’t ended well for him.  He crawled into the man’s lap as the man continued to pet him.  It felt safe and comforting.  This man was clearly dangerous if he was a witch, but Napoleon didn’t feel like he was in danger, not like he had with Victoria.  The air around her had hummed with power.  Napoleon should have run when he had the chance, instead he played with fire.  Now he was paying the price.

“I am only good at being angry and nice to lonely cats,” the man said. 

Napoleon stretched up on his hind legs and bumped its head against the man’s chin.  The man smiled and it warmed Napoleon’s heart.  This man was too good a person to be a witch, it was probably why he was so bad at it.  As much as Napoleon wanted to be human again he wasn’t sure how much he really wanted to take his chances with someone powerful enough to get the job done.  Napoleon would much rather be trapped as a cat with this Russian man as his only companion.

The man wrapped he arms around Napoleon and buried his face in Napoleon’s fur.  Napoleon wanted to protest, he was filthy.  He’d spent days wondering the streets in varying degrees of wetness, there was no telling what disgusting things he was covered in.  Napoleon didn’t struggle though.  The man seemed to need this and it was the least Napoleon could do since the man was taking him in.  They spent a few moments like this before the man took a deep breath and set Napoleon down.

The man stood and Napoleon tried to get his attention.  He felt safe and he didn’t want that feeling to go away.  He wanted the man to stay with him.  They clearly needed each other. 

“I have to make my own dinner now, Pasha,” he told Napoleon.

The man went to the kitchen and Napoleon followed.  He jumped up on the counter and made himself comfortable.  He laid out and watched the man make and eat a sandwich.  When the man finished Napoleon followed him as he finished eating and busied himself with cleaning and preparing for bed.  Napoleon was particularly fascinated with watching the man change out of his clothes.  This man was definitely attractive, all firm muscle and pale skin.  He had several scars that Napoleon was curious to learn more about.  If only he could speak.

The man laid down in his bed and Napoleon joined him.  He made himself comfortable as close to the man’s head as he could.  He settled down in a position that let him face the man and stare into his eyes.  He liked staring at them.  They said the eyes were the windows to the soul and that was true in this man’s case.  His eyes were expressive and full of life.  The man gave him a small smile and reached over to scratch behind his ear.  Napoleon closed his eyes and began to purr.  He was definitely happy.  Maybe being a cat wasn’t so bad, especially if he got to share a bed with a man as beautiful and kind as his new Russian friend.  He was so thankful that the man had stopped and picked him up at the bus stop.  He wished he could make the man understand just how grateful he was.  He drifted off to sleep with the man’s hand buried in his fur.  He thought he could learn to enjoy being stuck as a cat.


	3. Illya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are coming pretty quickly right now because I have half of this story written and a few days off of work. I'm going back to work in the morning though, so updates will probably be slower from here on out.

It hadn’t been easy to leave for work the next morning.  Pasha kept getting in his way, winding between his legs and doing everything he could to keep Illya from leaving the apartment.  Pasha had sat on his jacket, and tried to block the door.  Illya gently shifted him aside and promised he would return later.  He had to go to work or he wouldn’t have the money to buy food for either of them.

For the most part Illya’s work kept him from interacting too much with people.  It was nice and quiet in the mailroom.  It could be painfully boring however, day in and day out sorting letters into little cubby holes.  The mail room was in a windowless back room of one of the many tall office buildings that filled New York City.  The daily lack of sun didn’t do much to help Illya’s temperament, but at least it paid.  There weren’t a whole lot of jobs available for people like him, ex-soviets, who had a hard time learning English.  Not that he was much of an “ex” Soviet.  He hadn’t defected willingly, he was forced out of his country.  The government wasn’t very trusting of people like him, regardless of how poor he was at using his power. 

There were plenty of people far more powerful than him, but he had still been targeted by the government.  His parents had been singled out during Stalin’s Purges, leaving Illya alone.  He had stayed true to the state though, and as a child thought that ignoring his powers would keep him from suffering the way his parents had.  The other children weren’t so willing to forget.  They tormented him, they used cruel words and did even crueler things.  Finally Illya began to fight back.    He learned quickly to channel that magic he felt deep down out into his fists.  The first time he did this he broke a boy’s nose.

The children started to leave him alone after that.  They would still say cruel things when they thought he couldn’t hear, but very few confronted him.  There of course would be the occasional boy, who thought of himself as a powerhouse, who would confront Illya.  He would mock Illya, his parents, and throw a few punches.  Illya would throw a few of his own and he always came out victorious.  The adults in his life however where just as afraid of him as the children.  They would shy away from him, keep him at arm’s length.  None would comfort him when he was sad and alone.  He learned to treat his own wounds because people were afraid to touch him. 

As he grew he would regularly get visits from the police.  He was accused of so many things, being an enemy of the state was the most common accusation.  He was also accused of being behind any sort of disappearance in whatever neighborhood he was living in at the time.  His neighbors all thought he was responsible for any missing dogs, cats, and the homeless.  He was scorned by his neighbors and under constant surveillance by the government.  It was hard to be comfortable in his own home and it had been even harder to find work.  The best he could do was the odd job here and there, nothing permanent and nothing that paid well.

Life hadn’t been easy in Russia, not for his parents, and especially not for him.  It was easier for Illya to leave, so he did.  Life wasn’t much better in New York.  He made people nervous, his size, his temper, and his origin were intimidating.  Although no one here seemed to care about his magic.  He often saw magic used for such trivial things like making window displays, especially around the holidays.  It seemed so common here, unlike anything Illya had experienced in Russia.

It wasn’t his magic, but his size and short temper that made people here uncomfortable.  His status as an ex-Soviet seemed to be a problem as well.  Tensions between the Soviet Union and the US were high.  People here kept their distance from Illya, leaving him just as alone as he had been in Russia, but now he had a cat to keep him company.  Speaking of which, he still needed to find Gaby and ask her to help him shop for things Pasha needed.  He loaded the packages and letters that needed to be delivered to various floors onto his cart and began taking them to their proper homes.  One of those homes was the office Gaby worked in.  He would give her the mail and ask her about cat supply shopping.

The biggest problem Illya had with his job was delivering the mail to the various offices in the building.  There were women that insisted on talking with him, despite how uncomfortable it made him and men who liked to irritate him.  It hadn’t been too bad since the incident two weeks ago, he had begun to shy away from him.  Illya had plenty of practice dealing with that. 

Two weeks ago one of the men on the third floor, a man named Alexander Vinciguerra, had decided it would be great to test Illya’s breaking point.  Illya had punched a hole through the wall next to the Vinciguerra’s head.  This hadn’t been Illya’s first outburst at work or his last.  Just last week, a delivery man had sent him into the fit that had destroyed his good winter coat.  The Vinciguerra incident had been Illya’s worst outburst at work.   

Illya had been sure he would get fired.  He had no idea what he would do if he lost his job.  He struggled with his English and it had been so hard for him to get a job in the first place.  Gaby had helped him out though.  Her boss, Mr. Waverly, owned the building and was the man responsible for signing Illya’s pay checks.  Gaby convinced him not to fire Illya, which he would be eternally thankful for.  He hoped she wouldn’t mind helping out some more.

When Illya made it to the floor Gaby worked on he was glad to see her at her desk.  She smiled and greeted him as he rolled his cart off of the elevator.  He smiled back and made his way to her desk.  He set her mail down on top of the desk next to her typewriter before asking her his question.  He nervously fiddled with some of the letters in the stack he’d set down.  She looked up at him expectantly.

“I have favor to ask,” he said.  She motioned for him to continue.  “I found a cat on my way home last night.  He needs things, food and cat things.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Will you help me buy him things?  I am not sure what he needs.”

“You’ve never struck me as much of a cat person,” Gaby said.  Illya started to wonder if asking her for help was a bad idea.  She seemed to notice his disappointment and quickly added, “Of, course I’ll help you.  I’m just surprised.”

“Thank you,” Illya said. 

They agreed to use their lunch to buy supplies.  Gaby demanded that she get to come over after work to see the cat.  She wanted to see what kind of creature could win Illya over.  Illya was nervous about the whole thing.  He felt very protective of Pasha despite only having him for a day.  He had looked so sad when Illya was getting ready to leave that morning.  Illya would have liked to have stayed home, but he needed to work.  If he didn’t work he couldn’t afford to keep the apartment or take care of Pasha.  Illya was also worried about Gaby seeing his apartment.  It wasn’t all that nice, nothing like he was sure her apartment must be like. 

He tried not to think about his worries.  Instead he focused on work.  When lunch came around he met Gaby in the lobby and she led the way to a pet store.  She had asked around the office about the best place in the neighborhood.  Illya was worried how much “best” cost.  The store itself looked quite nice and Illya was worried he didn’t have the money to purchase even a bag of cat food from this store.

“I’ll help you out,” Gaby said.  Illya tried to protest, but she wasn’t going to have any of that.  “This poor defenseless creature you found needs help and I’m going to help.”

That was the end of the conversation.  She led him through the store helping him pick out the best cat food, a cat box and litter, and little toy mice for Pasha to play with.  Most importantly she helped him find a collar for Pasha to wear.  She told him it was important that he had proof he belonged somewhere.  Illya nearly fainted at the cost of all these things.  Gaby true to her word helped Illya pay.  He was grateful, but he also felt guilty.  She said he could repay her later, but the amount of money she had spent for him still didn’t sit right with him.  At least he had what he needed for Pasha now. 

He hadn’t known about cat boxes, he was worried he’d find a nasty surprise waiting for him at home.  Pasha had after all been trapped inside all day.  Illya really didn’t want to think about that.  It would be just another reason for Gaby to dislike his apartment and Pasha might not be too happy with him either.  At least Illya had remembered to give him fresh water before he left.  He had even left the heater on, maybe not as high as he would have liked, he was worried he wouldn’t be able to afford the bill, but it was still sputtering out warmth when he had left.  Hopefully, Pasha would be content with what Illya could give him.  It was after all better than living on the street.

After work Illya again met Gaby in the lobby and led her to his home.  He was nervous for most of the bus ride.  His nervousness grew on the walk to his apartment.  Gaby looks so nice and proper.  She didn’t seem to belong in this old rundown neighborhood.  She didn’t seem to care, but there was no way for Illya to be sure.  He opened the door to his apartment and was greeted by meowing and a furry black blur attaching itself to his legs.

“It is good to see you too,” Illya told Pasha.  He set his things down on the floor by the door a scooped the cat up into his arms.  He nuzzled his face in Pasha’s fur, forgetting about Gaby until she spoke.

“That is so sweet,” she said.  Illya stepped aside to let her in properly to the apartment.  Pasha seemed to press himself closer to Illya’s chest.  Gaby reached out a hand so that Pasha could sniff her.  “You said you named him Pasha, right?”

“Yes,” Illya said.  He stroked Pasha’s back.  He seemed nervous about Gaby, Illya tried to reassure him.  Gaby wouldn’t hurt him, Illya would make sure of that.  Pasha seemed to relax and let Gaby touch him.

“I can’t believe someone would leave such a beautiful animal on the streets by itself,” she said.  Pasha seemed to preen at the compliment.  Illya did a bit too.  He was impressed with Pasha and was glad someone else thought so.  He set Pasha down on the couch.

“I have things for you,” Illya told him.  He took the bags with his earlier purchases and set them on the couch next to Pasha. 

He pulled out the cat food and one of the dishes Gaby had him get.  He set the dish on the floor by the kitchen door and started filling with food.  Pasha followed him to investigate.  He seemed just as suspicious of the cat food as he had been of the tuna the night before.  Illya was relieved when Pasha began to eat.

“I wonder if he’s ever had an owner,” Gaby said.  She had taken off her coat and was sitting on the couch going through the shopping bags. 

“What makes you think that?” Illya asked.

“He just seems a little picky about the food,” she said.  “Maybe he’s used to eating something different.”

Illya didn’t like the idea of Pasha having an owner.  What if they came looking for him and tried to take him away?  The last thing Illya wanted was to lose Pasha, he wasn’t sure he could handle it.  Illya was pulled from his thoughts by Pasha’s meowing.  Pasha was leaning against Illya’s leg with one paw stretched out to try and touch Illya’s hand.

“That is so cute,” Gaby said.  Illya looked at her to see her smiling at him. 

She had something in her hand that she tossed at him now that she had his attention.  Illya caught it.  It was the collar they had picked out for Pasha.  It was as close a blue as he could find to Passha’s eyes.  Illya went to put it around Pasha’s neck, but he pulled away and scurried under the couch.

“It is alright Pasha,” Illya said crawling after him and staring at him under the couch.  He had been speaking in English for Gaby, but now he spoke in Russia.  “It is just so people know you have a home.  If you get out and lost.  It has our address on it.”

He showed Pasha the tag.  It had been the most expensive purchase of the day, but also the one Illya felt the most comfortable with.  It made him feel better knowing that if Pasha ever got lost he could be returned to him.  Pasha crawled towards Illya and the collar.  He and Illya locked eyes.  Much like the night before as Illya drifted off to sleep, he seemed to get a feeling from Pasha.  Illya sat up so that Pasha could come out from under the couch.  He let Illya put the collar on him, giving the impression that this was something he was doing just for Illya.  Illya was happy.

“This is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” Gaby said.  Illya’s eyes shot up to look at her.  He had once again forgotten she was there.  “I should be leaving now, but we should do this again sometime, maybe earlier so that I can spend more time watching you play with Pasha.”

She stood up and went to grab her coat.  Illya apologized for being a terrible host.  She said not to worry and let him walk her back to the bus stop.  He waited with her until the bus came and went back to his apartment.  Pasha was waiting for him.  Illya scooped him up into his arms and held him close. 

“That was Gaby,” he told Pasha.  “She works in the same building as me.  She is nice and helped me buy you things today.”  Pasha began purring.  “I am going to make dinner now, then maybe I will play chess.  Do you want to watch?”

Pasha meowed and Illya thought it might be a yes.


	4. Napoleon

The next morning the man woke up with the sun.  Napoleon had never in his life gotten up that early, not even for a job.  He blinked up at the man as he got dressed, wishing he was more awake.  It was a crime to not be able to fully appreciate this man’s beauty as he dressed himself.  As Napoleon became more aware of his surroundings he realized that the man was getting ready for work.  He was getting ready to leave Napoleon.

Napoleon didn’t want the man to leave.  He wasn’t sure why, but he felt safe with the Russian.  If he left that feeling of safety was sure to go with him.  Napoleon couldn’t let that happen.  He’d spent weeks wondering the streets trying to get by, never sure where his next meal was coming from, or if he would make it to see the next morning.  He was finally safe, he had a roof over his head and someone to provide him with regular meals.  He didn’t care if the food wasn’t up to his standards as long as the man didn’t leave him.

Napoleon spent the morning making a nuisance of himself.  He was constantly in the way, winding between the man’s feet, sitting on his jacket, and trying to block the door with his little body.  The man still left.  He was careful about moving Napoleon out of the way, but he still left despite Napoleon’s protests.

He promised he would be home later, but he had to go to work.  If he didn’t work he and Napoleon would be on the street.  Napoleon definitely didn’t want to go back to living on the streets.  Even with the man taking care of him Napoleon was sure that living on the street could never feel safe.  He was terrified that Victoria, the witch who’d turned him into a cat, was still looking for him.  If she was, she probably wanted to finish the job she’d started.  Turning Napoleon into a cat couldn’t have been the end game.

Napoleon felt horribly lonely without the man in the apartment.  He was surprised that loneliness was all he felt.  The apartment still felt the same, warm and safe, even with the man gone.  Napoleon still felt safe.  Without the man there was definitely something missing, but Napoleon didn’t feel afraid.  Nothing could hurt him in here. 

He was glad the man left the heater on.  Napoleon had spent most of the day napping in front of it.  He did however get bored after a while.  He wondered around the apartment inspecting the man’s things.  Everything was old, used, and in less than stellar condition.  Well, everything except for a wooden chess set.  It was definitely old, but well taken care of.  Napoleon wondered if the man played with it often.  Did he practice against himself or did he invite people over to play?  He had mentioned he was lonely, and struggled with other people.  He probably didn’t have anyone to play against.  If he did he wouldn’t be lonely.

If only Napoleon still had hands.

The big surprise to Napoleon was that the man had a record player and a collection of records.  The top one looked like a jazz record.  Napoleon wondered what the rest were.  He tried to look, but paws made it difficult.  Eventually Napoleon gave up.  He wondered how long the man would be at work.  He made himself comfortable on the man’s bed.  It smelled like him and made him feel comfortable.  Not that being alone in the apartment was terribly frightening.  He felt much better than he thought he would.  He thought he’d be terrified without the man there to protect him, but it wasn’t bad at all.  He wasn’t afraid.  There was just something about this place that felt safe, almost as if the man had never left, almost.

Maybe it was magic.  The man said he was bad at it, but maybe he just didn’t understand how to use his abilities, actively at least.  It was possible that his magic just flowed out of him and effected things around him.  This was the man’s apartment, he lived here, his things were here, and it was his home.  He spent so much time here that his magic must be everywhere, in everything by now.  Despite the fact that the man left the apartment it was as if he was still here, keeping Napoleon safe.

Napoleon slept on and off, throughout the day.  The man didn’t have much in his apartment to keep a cat occupied.  Napping while surrounded by the smell of the man who had taken him in seemed much better than thinking about what had gotten him into this situation.  He had been cocky and overconfident.  He should have never played with that fire.  He was paying the price now, but it wasn’t all that terrible.  He may be trapped as a cat, but he got to live with a beautiful man who doted on him.  Napoleon and this man would have never met if Napoleon hadn’t been a desperate cat. 

Napoleon’s life as a human was worlds apart from this man’s.  He had been an art thief, a highly successful one at that.  He had money to burn and spent it frivolously.  He had a penthouse apartment full of the finest things money could buy.  He traveled the same social circles as New York’s upper echelon.  It was a world his Russian could only dream of, but also one Napoleon desperately wanted to show him.  This man was far to kind to suffer the way he did.  If Napoleon could get back to his old life, he’d take the man away with him.  He might even find someone to teach the man how to use his magic.   

Napoleon lost himself in these thoughts until the moment he heard a key in the lock.  He was up and at the door in a flash.  The man was finally home.  He stretched up to lean against the man and meow at him.  Napoleon had never been so happy to see someone in his life.   

“It is good to see you too,” the man said to Napoleon in English.

Napoleon though that was a bit strange.  The man usually only spoke to him in Russian.  Napoleon didn’t worry much about it.  It was possible he just wanted to practice.  In a moment the man set down the bags he was carrying so that he could pick Napoleon up.  He buried his nose in Napoleon’s fur.  This was a habit Napoleon was growing to enjoy.  It was intimate and reminded Napoleon of the fact that the man needed him.  They needed each other and Napoleon wanted to give the man more.

“That is so sweet,” a voice Napoleon didn’t recognize said.  The man stepped aside to let a woman into the apartment.

Napoleon pressed himself into the man’s chest.  The last time he’d seen a pretty woman he had been turned into a cat.  This one didn’t seem that intimidating.  The air around her wasn’t pulsing with power the way it had with Victoria, which was a relief.  She couldn’t be dangerous.  Napoleon wasn’t sure who she was though and worried that she might be the man’s girlfriend.  He hadn’t mentioned having one the night before and people with girlfriends usually didn’t complain about being lonely, but Napoleon wasn’t so sure about her.  Napoleon didn’t want to share the man with anyone else.  He didn’t care that he hadn’t been in the man’s life for more than a day.  This man was his and no one else’s.  The man stroked Napoleon’s fur as the woman reached out a hand towards him.

“You said you named him Pasha, right?” she asked.

“Yes,” the man said.  He seemed to really want Napoleon to like this woman.  Napoleon still didn’t want to share, but he was willing to at least try for the man. 

He relaxed and let the woman pet him.  It would be fine.  She didn’t live here, she would go home eventually and Napoleon would have the man all to himself once again.  It was however, disappointing that he had spent the whole day waiting for his Russian to come home only to have to share their time together with an unfamiliar woman.   

“I can’t believe someone would leave such a beautiful animal on the streets by itself,” she said.  Maybe this woman wasn’t so bad.  She had good taste, Napoleon preened at the compliment.  The man seemed to enjoy Napoleon’s reaction. 

The man suddenly set Napoleon down on the couch.

“I have things for you,” the man said. 

He brought his shopping bags over to the couch and started going through them.  Soon he pulled out a dish and a bag of cat food.  He took both over to the area next to the kitchen door.  Napoleon followed him and watched the man pour food into the bowl.  Napoleon wasn’t sure how he felt about eating cat food, it was a new low for him.  He almost preferred the canned tuna the man had fed him the night before.  The man had gone through all of the trouble of getting this food for him though.  The least Napoleon could do was try it, besides, he was a cat now.  What else was he supposed to eat?  Maybe if the man could figure out how to use magic to talk to him they could discuss the food situation, until then he would have to deal with what the man could provide him.  It was still better than what he had been eating before the man found him.  Napoleon started munching away at the food.  He heard the man release a breath, he must have been worried Napoleon wouldn’t eat it.

“I wonder if he’s ever had an owner,” the woman said.  She had made herself comfortable on the man’s couch and was rifling through his bags.

“What makes you think that?” the man asked.

“He just seems a little picky about the food,” the woman said.  “Maybe he’s used to eating something different.”  Different was just the tip of the iceberg.

Napoleon didn’t like how much attention the woman was getting.  He didn’t like how she sat around like she owned the place.  This wasn’t her home.  The ones that belonged here were Napoleon and his Russian.  The woman didn’t belong and Napoleon had to get the man to see that.  He leaned against the man’s leg and stretched out a paw to get the man’s attention.

“That is so cute,” the woman said.  She was smiling at the man, who now had his eyes focused on her instead of Napoleon.

She was holding something that she’d pulled out of one of the bags.  She tossed it to the man.  The man held it out for Napoleon to see.  It was a pet collar.  The man wanted to put a collar on him, in fact he was moving it closer and closer to Napoleon’s neck.  Napoleon panicked and darted under the couch.  It was just a collar, anyone would put one on a pet, but Napoleon wasn’t a pet, not really.  Honestly the idea scared Napoleon, this was conformation that he was trapped, as a cat.  As comfortable as he was with living in the man’s space, part of Napoleon had held out hope that he could become human again.  The man admitted to being a witch, with enough time and practice he could make Napoleon human again.  Letting the man put that collar on him was like giving up.  It made his situation permanent.

“It is alright Pasha,” the man said.  He had gotten on the floor so that he could look at Napoleon under the couch.  He was finally speaking Russian again.  Napoleon never thought he would be so happy to hear that language again.  He told Napoleon, “It is just so people know you have a home.  If you get out and lost.  It has our address on it.” 

He held out the collar so that Napoleon could see the tag better.  It did indeed have an address on it, as well as a name, Illya Kuryakin.  That must be the man’s name.  He had never told Napoleon what his name was, but now Napoleon knew.  He was living with Illya and Illya wanted to make sure Napoleon could find his way home if he got lost.  The collar wasn’t really a way to solidify Napoleon’s position.  It was a way for Illya to take care of Napoleon, even when he wasn’t there.  Napoleon was touched. 

Illya just wanted to keep him safe, make sure if anything happened he could find his way home.  His intention was to take care of Napoleon, not trap him forever as a pet cat.  He didn’t even know that Napoleon wasn’t a real cat.  He looked at Illya’s face, so open honest, and concerned.  Napoleon made a decision, would wear the collar, for Illya.  He crawled out from under the couch and let Illya put the blasted thing around his neck.  He could tell Illya was happy.

“This is the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” the woman said.  Illya once again focused his attention on her and Napoleon felt jealousy spike through him again.  “I should be leaving now, but we should do this again sometime, maybe earlier so that I can spend more time watching you play with Pasha.”

Napoleon was glad that she was leaving.  He wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of her coming back.  Illya was his.  He tried to follow when Illya made to walk the woman to the bus stop.  They both slipped out and shut the door on Napoleon.  Napoleon scratched at the door in a vain attempt to get through it.  He wanted Illya with him, not that woman.  Napoleon paced about the tiny living space until Illya returned.  The moment he came through the door he lifted Napoleon into his arms.  Napoleon finally got to have Illya all to himself.

“That was Gaby,” he said to Napoleon.  “She works in the same building as me.  She is nice and helped me buy you things today. I am going to make dinner now, then maybe I will play chess.  Do you want to watch?”

While he spoke Napoleon purred.  He had Illya to himself and the woman, Gaby, was gone.  He perked up when Illya mentioned chess.  He would love to watch Illya play, especially after he had thought about it so much earlier.  He made a sound in the affirmative.  At least he hoped Illya understood it as a yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if it's obvious, but I'm not much of a cat person and I've never really had one of my own. So, if anyone wants to give me some tips I would really appreciate it.


	5. Illya

Illya worked another day before he had time off.  The office building was closed on Saturday and Sunday, meaning Illya didn’t have to be anywhere.  He woke up with the sun as usual, but instead of leaving the comfort of his bed he simply rolled over and relaxed.  There was no work, or pressing errands for him to attend to.  He could afford to start his day a bit later than usual. 

He chose to spend his Saturday morning lying in bed with Pasha.  He wrapped his arms around Pasha as if the cat were a child’s stuffed toy.  Pasha was warm and purring.  Illya felt happy and relaxed.  This was the best he could ever remember feeling.  Perhaps, he should have gotten a pet sooner.  Life might not have been as lonely for him if Illya had always had a cat, but maybe it wouldn’t have done him any good to have just any cat.   It was possible that there was just something special about Pasha.  Pasha squirmed in Illya’s arms until he was facing Illya.  He stared up at Illya making him feel warm and pleased.

“Good Morning,” he said.

_Morning_ Illya heard.  He shot up in bed.  Pasha panicked and dove for cover under Illya’s quilt.  Illya stared at the quivering lump that was Pasha.  He just thought he heard someone talk to him, but there was no one else in the room, except Pasha.  Illya lifted the edge of the quilt and peered at Pasha. 

“I am sorry Pasha,” he told the frightened cat.  “I did not mean to frighten you.  I frightened myself.”  Illya flopped back down on the bed so that he could stare at the ceiling.  “I thought I heard you speak, but that could not be.”

Pasha slowly edged his way out from under the blanket.  Illya felt a wave of relief hit him.  Relief that everything was alright, that no one was here for him, but… there was no one after him.  Why should he feel relieved that no one had found him?  He realized that this feeling must be coming from Pasha.  He looked over at Pasha and focused.

“Who are you afraid of?” Illya asked.  Pasha’s ears perked up and his eyes went wide.  Illya had never known that cats could express surprise.

_You understand_ , Illya heard.  It seemed to be whispered in his mind.  A thought mingled amongst his own, but not his.

“I am starting to,” Illya said.  He rolled over on his side so that he could run his hands through Pasha’s fur.  It wasn’t easy interpreting the messages he was getting from Pasha, most of them came across as jumbled emotions, but some were clear and formed words.  There was one thing that came across very clearly.

_Afraid of the witch woman._

Illya gathered Pasha in his arms.  He wrapped himself protectively around the cat.  He would never let anyone or anything hurt Pasha.  Pasha was his friend, even if he was a cat.

“I will protect you,” Illya told Pasha.  “I will protect you.”

Illya spent the day practicing with his new ability to communicate with Pasha.  It was surprisingly taxing.  It drained him of all of his energy and he was exhausted by the end of the day.  Illya felt like he was using a muscle he wasn’t used to using and he was straining it far more than he should.  He didn’t want to stop using it though.  Even as his exhaustion grew Illya kept straining to hear Pasha speak.  As tiring as it was, it was also exciting.  For the first time in his life Illya was using his magic for something other than violence.  It was invigorating.

Pasha noticed how tired Illya was becoming.  He told Illya to stop and relax.  It was his day off, he should be resting.  Illya tried to explain to Pasha how excited his was, that he had to keep using his new skill regardless of how tired it made him.  He could speak to Pasha now, and he needed to get better at it.  Pasha tried to speak as little as possible.  He was trying to force Illya to rest, but Illya was stubborn.  He could pick up emotions from Pasha as well, so when Pasha refused to speak Illya focused on those instead.  He knew Pasha was frustrated with him.

It reached the point that even Illya’s stubbornness couldn’t keep him on his feet.  Pasha noticed and doubled his efforts to get Illya to rest.  He pawed at Illya’s record player.  Illya knew he had pushed himself too far, resting wasn’t a bad idea.  He kneeled down to sort through his record collection, the only thing he frivolously spent money on.  Pasha had scrambled up Illya’s body and balanced himself on Illya’s shoulder.  He peered down at the records as Illya sorted through them trying to decide what to play.  This was one of the few things Illya enjoyed in life he felt an indescribable joy knowing that Pasha wanted to share it.  It was probably strange that he felt so strongly about what a cat thought, but Illya was happy.  He didn’t care if he was happy because of a cat.  

As the record player filled the apartment with music Illya laid himself down on the couch.  Pasha jumped up onto Illya’s chest circled around and around in a little circle before making himself comfortable.  Once he was settled he began purring.  Illya felt drowsy.  He was tired, the music and Pasha’s purring drawing him closer and closer to sleep.  Illya lost his battle with the sandman and didn’t wake up again until the record had ended.  He carefully got up, keeping a hold of Pasha.  He turned off the record player and took Pasha to bed.   

Communicating with Pasha got easier as the weekend progressed.  Despite the ease that came with practice Illya was still exhausted by the time he got up for work on Monday.  He felt as if he’d spent the weekend hiking back to Russian, instead of sitting in his apartment with Pasha.  At least he understood more of what Pasha was trying to tell him, but that also leaving him behind on Monday morning harder than it had been any other morning.  Now he understood when Pasha begged him to stay.  Illya could hear Pasha’s pleas for him not to leave.

They both knew Illya couldn’t stay, no matter how much he wanted to.

It was hard to leave Pasha.  He was so afraid.  He let Illya know that being alone in the apartment wasn’t as frightening as he had thought it would be the first day Illya had left him alone.  He knew the apartment was safe, but it would feel so much safer with Illya around.  He was worried the witch woman would come for him, finish what she started.  Illya wasn’t sure what that meant, Pasha wouldn’t talk about it.  He would get nervous and jittery when Illya tried to broach the subject.  He was afraid and Illya didn’t like it.  He promised he would protect Pasha, from whatever he was afraid of.  He had always been good at winning fights, and he would keep it up if it meant keeping Pasha safe. 

Work for Illya was the same as usual for the most part.  He got the mail from the postman in the morning and began to sort through it.  He delivered what was needed and said hello to Gaby.  She seemed unusually happy.  She smiled at Illya as if she knew something he didn’t.  It was a bit unnerving, but easy enough for Illya to ignore, at least until after lunch.  After lunch things veered from the usual. 

Illya came back from lunch to see Mr. Waverly, Gaby’s boss and the man who owned the building, standing in the mailroom.  Illya was nervous the moment he set eyes on the man.  He had only ever seen the man when he delivered mail to Gaby.  Mr. Waverly had never come down here to see Illya.  He wondered if the man had changed his mind about firing him.  Vincigeurra must still be upset about that incident two weeks ago.  He must have talked with Waverly and now the man was here to fire Illya.  How would Illya get by without his job?  Where would he find another one?  He and Pasha would be in so much trouble if he lost his job.

“No need to be so nervous,” Mr. Waverly said.  “This is purely a social visit.”

“It is good to see you sir,” Illya said.  Despite the other man’s words he couldn’t relax.

“Miss Teller tells me you have recently acquired a pet cat,” Waverly said.  Illya nodded.  “I was thinking it must get rather lonely down here.”

“Sometimes,” Illya admitted.  He wasn’t sure were this was going.  It made him nervous.  Was this what Gaby had been smiling about earlier? 

“I was thinking that perhaps you could bring the animal in,” Mr. Waverly said.  I’m sure it wouldn’t be a bother, and then you would have someone to keep you company.”

Illya just stared wide eyed at the man.  Was he really saying he could bring Pasha into work with him?  He would never have to leave Pasha alone again.  Pasha could stay with him and feel perfectly safe.

“Really?” Illya asked.

“Of, course,” Mr. Waverly said.  “Miss Teller has also expressed an interest in regular visits with your furry little friend.  She says your apartment is too far away.”

“Thank you sir,” Illya said.  “Gaby can come see him when he is here, or I can bring him to your office."

“That would be fine Mr. Kuryakin,” Mr. Waverly said smiling.  “I’m sure it will be a pleasure.  I’ll be sure to make sure the necessary supplies or brought down here so that you won’t have to worry.”

“Thank you sir,” Illya said again.

Mr. Waverly left a moment later and Illya couldn’t believe it.  He could bring Pasha to work.  Pasha wouldn’t have to be alone anymore, which meant he also wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore.  Illya would always be there for him.  He would have to thank Gaby.  He never would have thought to ask if Pasha could come to work with him.  He owed her a lot now, for helping him buy Pasha’s things and getting permission for Pasha to come with him.  Pasha didn’t seemed too fond of Gaby when she came over, but maybe he would grow to like her more once Illya delivered the good news.

The rest of Illya’s day went by in a haze.  He was so happy, nothing could faze him.  Not even that bastard Vinciguerra on the third floor could ruin Illya’s day.  He couldn’t wait to get home and let Pasha know the good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look guys, work didn't kill me, though they did try. (Not literally.)
> 
> Happy Hanukkah!


	6. Napoleon

Napoleon loved sleeping with Illya.  He loved when Illya wrapped his arms around him in a protective circle and he loved the warmth that radiated off of Illya’s body.  Napoleon wished he could wrap his own arms around Illya.  He could only imagine what it would feel like to wrap his own arms around Illya, to take his turn at protecting Illya from the world.  If only he could find a way to become human again, then he would take Illya away.  He would take Illya away and give him everything he ever wanted.

Illya deserved the world and Napoleon would give it to him if he could.  As the days went by Napoleon hated his situation more and more, but he had no way to change it.  Illya didn’t have the power or skill to change him back and it’s not like Napoleon had the opportunity to find a magic user who could fix him.  Illya always made sure that Napoleon didn’t slip past him as he left and kept the windows shut tight.  Napoleon had no way of leaving the apartment to search for help.  He wasn’t even sure he wanted to.  As much as he wanted to be human again, it was safe in Illya’s apartment.  He was safe in Illya’s apartment.     

Even though Napoleon was still stuck as a cat Napoleon knew today would be good.  Today Illya didn’t have to go into work.  Napoleon would finally get to have Illya all to himself.  It would be just the two of them for the whole day.  Instead of beginning his day when the first rays of sun began to peak through the curtains Illya slept.  He slept in with his arms wrapped around Napoleon.  Napoleon purred, happy and content.  He turned so that he could look at Illya’s eyes.  He loved the way they looked in the morning light and now he could stare at them without interruption.

“Good morning,” Illya said to him.

Napoleon wished Illya’s experiment with communicating with him had worked.  He would love to tell the man good morning in response.  As soon as he thought it Illya shot up in bed.  His eyes wide and frightened.  Napoleon felt fear take a hold of him.  He dove for cover under Illya’s quilt.  Whatever had scared Illya, Napoleon wanted nothing to do with it.  Illya was a big man, more than capable of defending himself.  He had obviously had to do it often.  When he dressed and undressed to prepare for bed or work Napoleon could see the scars that littered his body.  Seeing those scars often filled Napoleon with an unbridled rage.  How dare anyone hurt Illya? 

Those scars, while terrible, were also proof that Illya had survived the tortures and struggles of his youth.  He had survived and come out stronger.  Napoleon didn’t want to know what would frighten a man like Illya.  What if it was Victoria or someone like her come to do him in?  Illya was good with his fists, not his magic.  He wouldn’t stand a chance against Victoria.

Illya lifted the edge of the quilt to peek at Napoleon.

“I am sorry Pasha,” Illya said trying to sooth him.  “I did not mean to frighten you.  I frightened myself.”  Napoleon watched Illya flop back down on the bed to face the ceiling.  “I thought I heard you speak, but that could not be.”

Napoleon slowly crawled out from under the quilt.  He was relieved.  Victoria hadn’t come to finish him off.  It was just him and Illya.  Napoleon didn’t have to be afraid, they were alone and Illya would protect him.

“Who are you afraid of?” Illya asked.  Napoleon was surprised.  Had Illya heard him?  Had he understood?  Had he finally figured out that communication trick he had tried to preform that first night?  Napoleon would need to test their ability to communicate with each other.

_You understand?_

“I am starting to,” Illya said.  He rolled over to face Napoleon and began to run his hands through his fur. 

This was fantastic.  Illya was learning to use his magic to communicate with Napoleon.  They could talk.  They could talk and Napoleon could tell him everything.  He could tell Illya about what happened to him, about Victoria.  He could tell Illya that he was afraid of her, that horrid witch woman.  Illya wrapped his arms around Napoleon, as if to shield him from the world.  Some of Napoleon’s thoughts must have seeped across.

“I will protect you,” Illya told him.  “I will protect you.”

Napoleon and Illya spent the day practicing speaking with each other.  Illya was getting better as the day wore on, but he was also growing tired.  He had never used his abilities like this and now it was fatiguing him.  Napoleon wanted him to rest, but Illya wouldn’t listen.  He insisted on using his new gift despite the strain it put in him.  He was listening to everything Napoleon said, but he wasn’t really understanding the words.  Napoleon wanted him to take a break.  He wanted Illya to rest, it was the man’s day off, he should be using it to relax, not strain himself unnecessarily.

It might take time, but Napoleon had hope that Illya would be good enough to understand his story.  Until then, he needed Illya to be well rested.  He perched himself carefully on the table were Illya kept his record player.  He pawed at the machine and tried to convince Illya to play something so that they could rest and relax. 

He watched the fight leave Illya.  The man was clearly exhausted and was finally willing to admit it.  Illya surrendered and began to sort through his record collection.  Napoleon climbed up and balanced himself on Illya’s shoulders and watched Illya sort through his records before choosing one.

Together they laid on the couch, Napoleon on Illya’s chest.  He had a good life, for a cat.  A home and a beautiful man to take care of and protect him.  Even the finery Napoleon had indulged himself with before he became a cat didn’t compare to this moment.  What he shared now with Illya made him happier than any of the fine clothes and art Napoleon had previously surrounded himself with.

Over the weekend Illya got better at communicating with Napoleon, but he also pushed himself to exhaustion.  He looked so tired when he got up for work on Monday morning that Napoleon was concerned.  Illya was in no shape to go to work.  Napoleon wanted him to stay home.  He wanted Illya to rest and stay safe.  Illya had to leave though.  If he didn’t work they wouldn’t have the money they needed to get by.  It was sad watching him leave.

As worried as Napoleon was he didn’t want Illya to be worried about him.  Illya didn’t need anything to make his day any harder than it was already going to be.  He did his best to assure Illya that he would be fine, after all it wasn’t as frightening being alone as he had once feared.  He had also spent a few days on his own already, he would be fine today, even if he was lonely.  Part of him still worried Victoria would come and find him, but another part of him thought that he was perhaps worrying for nothing.  His biggest concern at the moment though was Illya’s wellbeing.  No matter how worried Napoleon was Illya still had to go to work.

Napoleon wished he had more to do while Illya was away at work.  It could be so boring being stuck alone in the apartment.  He found himself spending his day alternating between sleeping on Illya’s bed and his couch.  He would nibble at the food Illya left out for him, try not to get cat litter everywhere, and bemoaning his fate.  He had even resorted to playing with those silly toy mice that Illya had brought home with him the other day.  Napoleon wasn’t sure how to feel about that.  Here he was the great Napoleon Solo, a man made to wear fine suits, eat nothing but the best food, and enjoy the very best life had to offer, reduced to playing with toy mice and eating mediocre cat food.

It seemed the longer Napoleon was stuck as a cat the more he changed.  As a human he never would have been caught dead in a shabby place like Illya’s apartment.  As a cat he found Illya’s apartment cozy, if a bit shabby, and couldn’t imagine why he’d found all of those other things so important.  Sure he was bored without Illya, but Illya lead a good life and Napoleon was glad he got to share in it.  He wondered if he would feel the same if he ever got to be human again.  Would he want to keep sharing Illya’s little apartment, or would he spirit the man away to a life of luxury.  If anyone deserved the finest life had to offer it was Illya.  Maybe the two of them could meet in the middle and share a life different and better than what either of them had before.  If only Napoleon could find a way to become human again.

That night when Illya came home that night he looked better than when he had left in the morning.  He scooped Napoleon up into his arms and spun the both of them around.

“I have the best news,” Illya told him with the biggest smile Napoleon had ever seen on him.  “Mr. Waverly, my boss, says that you may come to work with me.”

_Really?_   Napoleon was shocked.  He could go to work with Illya, he wouldn’t have to be alone any more.

“Yes,” Illya said.  “Gaby asked and he said yes.  You no longer have to spend the day alone.”

Napoleon would have to thank Gaby, or at least try and be less angry at her.  She did after all just secure him a position at Illya’s side all day.  He would never have to be by himself again.  He and Illya could be together all the time now.  Napoleon wouldn’t spend the day moping around the apartment or be forced to cure his boredom with toy mice.  Napoleon couldn’t wait.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone!


	7. Illya

Illya was nervous.  Mr. Waverly had said he could bring Pasha into work today but Illya was still nervous.  There was a lot that could go wrong.  For one he wasn’t sure how well the bus ride would go.  He’d never seen someone bring a cat on the bus and he hoped they wouldn’t get kicked off.  Illya also had no idea what would happen once he got to work.  Mr. Waverly said it was okay for Pasha to be in the building, but what if no one else was alright with it.  What if Pasha got thrown out of the building when Illya while Illya was distracted?  Illya couldn’t stand the thought.  He would just have to keep Pasha close to him at all times.

Pasha was excited.  He wasn’t worried about the bus ride, or anything going wrong at the office.  He was just glad that he got to spend the day with Illya.  He was glad to get out of the apartment and follow Illya around for the day.  Pasha made sure Illya knew just how excited he was about this.  No matter how worried Illya was, he couldn’t disappoint Pasha.  He would push his fears aside and make sure everything went well today.  He would keep Pasha safe and make sure he enjoyed the trip.  Although, Illya wasn’t sure how much fun Pasha was going to have with him at work.  Illya didn’t have the most exciting of jobs.

They would make the most of this.  

As far as the bus ride went Illya decided it would be best to hide Pasha in his jacket like he had when he brought him home.  It would keep Pasha out of sight and also keep him warm.    The temperature hadn’t improved since the night Illya had brought Pasha home.  In fact it had gotten colder since that night.  It even looked like it might snow today and Illya didn’t want to risk Pasha’s health and wellbeing.  Sure, Pasha had fur, but that didn’t mean he was impervious to the cold.  The cold could do terrible things to Illya’s health, he didn’t want to see what it could do to Pasha.  Could cats even catch colds?  Illya had no idea, he was sure he didn’t want to find out. 

_Time to go,_ Pasha said, staring up at Illya.  He was waiting by the door, eager to get going.

“Yes,” Illya said.  He picked Pasha up and put him in his jacket.  He zipped it up as far as he could.  He peered down into the fabric and saw Pasha’s blue eyes staring back at him.  “Remember to behave, I do not want to get thrown off bus,” he told Pasha.  Pasha promised to be good and Illya let them out of the apartment and set off for work.

When he got to work Illya saw that mister Waverly had been true to his word and gotten supplies for Pasha.  Illya let Pasha out of his jacket and set him on the floor.  Illya went to set up the cat box up in the small backroom he used for breaks.  Pasha wondered around the mailroom, inspecting everything.  He jumped up on the counter and poked his head into the mail slots and batted his paw at the potted plant Illya kept on the counter.  Illya worried he might not it over and pulled him away.  Pasha didn’t settle down, he kept poking around the room, but at least he left the plant alone.  Pasha even tested out the scratching post that had been left in the corner.  Illya hadn’t gotten one for the apartment and wondered if he should.  It kept Pasha occupied, at least for a little bit. 

Illya’s next step was to set out the food and water dishes that Mr. Waverly had gotten.  Illya would have to thank the man when he saw him next.  He had not only been generous enough to let Illya bring Pasha to work, but provide him with all the necessities so that Illya wouldn’t have to lug them back and forth to work.  As Illya set out the food Pasha wondered back over to him and inspected it.  He ate at this food a little more enthusiastically than the food they had at home.

“Do you like it here?” Illya asked.  He ran his hand down Pasha’s back.  Pasha arched into the touch and focused his attention on Illya.

_It feels different._

“Different how?” Illya asked.

_Not as warm, or safe as home._   Illya held Pasha close.  He did his best to sooth the slight vein of worry that Pasha had grabbed a hold of.

“You will be safe with me,” Illya said.  Pasha began purring.  He seemed to relax and Illya set him down so that he could begin working.

Pasha didn’t let him work for long.  He kept pestering Illya for his attention.  It was distracting and Illya couldn’t make him stop.  Pasha kept up his attention grabbing until the post man arrived with the day's mail.  As soon as the man began bringing in the packages and letters Pasha made himself scarce.  Illya worried that he had escaped when the mail man had opened the door.  Pasha hadn’t left though.  He’d hidden himself in the back room.  Illya was relieved to see he hadn’t gotten out.

“Do you want to stay here until he leaves?” Illya asked Pasha.  Pasha said yes.  Illya shut the door, prepared to leave Pasha on his own when he got an idea.  He grabbed his jacket and took it into the breakroom.  He arranged it on a chair and helped Pasha get settled on it.  Once Pasha was comfortable Illya left to finish business with the post man.

When Illya and Pasha were alone again Illya moved his jacket into the main room so that Pasha could keep using it as a blanket.  It helped Pasha settle, he stopped wondering around the room and relaxed.  He left Illya to work in a comfortable silence.  There wasn’t much Illya could say he liked about work, but he couldn’t really say he hated it.   It wasn’t something he had dreamed of doing, but it paid the bills, and the work itself wasn’t hard.  Even though Illya still found opportunities to lose his temper, it wasn’t as frequent an occurrence as it had been in Russia.  Today was better than most.  Instead of being trapped alone with nothing but paper to keep him company Illya had Pasha. 

Even with Pasha finally content and quiet in a make shift bed he was far better company than Illya could have ever hoped for.  Illya could do his work, but he was no longer alone.  Pasha’s presence alone did wonders in staving off the crippling loneliness that usually filled Illya’s days.  It was a pleasant change from the normal, something Illya could get used to.  He hoped that his earlier worries of this being the only day Pasha could come to work were unfounded.  Illya wasn’t sure he could have his life returned to normal.   

A few hours after Pasha and Illya’s arrival Gaby made her way down to the mail room to see them.  Illya was busy sorting through the day’s deliveries while Pasha watched, curled up in his jacket on the counter.  Illya said hello to her as she came in, though he was confused as to why she would come all the way down here.  It couldn’t be to get the mail, Illya always walked it up to her.  She gave a small acknowledgement of Illya’s greeting and made straight for Pasha.

“Hello, Pasha,” she said scratching behind his ear.  “Are you enjoying you first day of work?”

Illya heard Pasha say that it was better than being alone in the apartment, but Illya’s work was boring.  All Gaby heard was purring.  Illya was glad though.  Pasha hadn’t liked Gaby much at first, but they seemed to get along fine now.  It might have had something to do with the hand she had in getting Pasha into the building.   Still, they got along now and Illya was glad they did.

“He seems to enjoy the food Mr. Waverly bought him,” Illya told Gaby. 

“That’s because he bought the expensive stuff,” she replied, attention still focused on Pasha.  “Your cat has expensive taste.  He definitely wasn’t always an alley cat.  He must have belonged to rich woman who spoiled him rotten.”

That made Illya pause.  Pasha had said he was afraid of the witch woman.  What if she had been his previous owner?  Perhaps Pasha ran away and that was why he was so afraid she would come looking for him. 

“What’s wrong?” Gaby asked.  Both she and Pasha were looking at him now, his worry must be showing on his face because they both seemed to have concerns of their own now.

_Illya?_   Pasha was definitely worried.  Illya stepped up to the counter and began to stroke Pasha’s fur.  He hoped it would calm the cat.

“He is jumpy,” Illya said.  “He has been hurt before.  If he had belonged to someone, it is possible they are the ones who hurt him.”

“Oh, no,” Gaby said.  She scooped Pasha up and cradled him to herself like a baby.  “I’m so sorry Pasha, but I know Illya won’t hurt and I’ll make sure he takes care of you.  You don’t have to be afraid of anything anymore.”  She looked ready to fight anything or anyone that dared to make her words untrue.

Illya felt contentment come off of Pasha.  He knew Illya would take care of him and he seemed to have a new respect for Gaby.  It made Illya happy to know that he wouldn’t be the only one looking out for Pasha’s wellbeing.  It was nice.  Gaby spent a few minutes more down in the mail room chatting with Illya and holding Pasha.  She eventually had to leave, but it had been nice while she was there.

“I have to thank you,” Illya told Pasha.  Pasha asked him what for.  “I did not have friends before, Gaby and I were never close, but now I have you both.  It is good to not be alone.”

_Never been happier_ , Pasha said.  He rubbed up against Illya’s hand.  Illya began petting him and Pasha purred in response.  Life was looking good for Illya.  He was glad he had Pasha in his life now.  For once in his life he was happy and no longer alone.  Illya no longer had regrets about moving to New York.  It was easily the best decision he had ever made in his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I sound like a broken record of gratitude when I answer comments, so I have been pretty bad at answering them lately, but I still love getting them. It makes me really happy that those of you who leave them liked this story so much that you needed to tell me. Hopefully this story and I continue to make you happy.
> 
> Also, Happy New Year!


	8. Napoleon

Napoleon was excited.  Today was going to be the first day he didn’t have to spend alone in the apartment.  Today he would get to go with Illya to work.  He couldn’t wait.  He was ready to burst out of his skin while he waited for Illya to get ready.  Illya had never talked about what he actually did at work and Napoleon couldn’t wait to see just what it was.  It couldn’t be anything to exciting, or Illya wouldn’t worry so much about money, but Napoleon was still excited. 

Illya seemed nervous.  Napoleon couldn’t read his thoughts and wished he could right now.  Illya looked like he was going to give himself a heart attack from all the worry.  He paced around the floor squeezing his hands tightly into fists.  He would hurt himself if he didn’t stop.  Napoleon sat himself by the door.

_Time to go,_ he said staring up at Illya.  He tried to project as much of his excitement as he could.  He wanted Illya to be as happy about this as he was.

“Yes,” Illya said.  He hoisted Napoleon up and put him in his jacket, just like when he’d brought Napoleon home.  Napoleon enjoyed it, it was a great way to be close to Illya.  “Remember to behave, I do not want to get thrown off the bus,” he added.

Napoleon agreed.  He didn’t want anything to get in the way of his spending time with Illya.  He was calm and quiet the whole bus ride.

Illya’s place of work was duller than Napoleon had expected.  Illya was a mail room clerk and the mail room was in the basement of the building.  There was no natural light and it was cold.  There were things for Napoleon that must have been left by the Mr. Waverly Illya had mentioned.  The mailroom didn’t have the same warm safe feeling as Illya’s apartment.  Napoleon definitely didn’t want to be alone here.  As a human he had attracted trouble, trouble that he was sure he couldn’t handle as a cat.  It would be best if he stayed close to Illya.

Despite his uneasiness Napoleon was still curious about his surroundings.  He wandered around the tiny space inspecting everything.  There was a small potted plant sitting on the counter.  Napoleon found that he quite liked batting at its leaves, at least until Illya had pulled him away from it.  Napoleon was disappointed, but he couldn’t tell if it was with Illya or himself.  He was Napoleon Solo, art thief extraordinaire, a connoisseur of fine art, food, and fashion.  He was not a lowly animal tempted by likes of small leafy green plants.  Even if those small leafy green plants were the only bright pop of life and color in the dungeon Illya was forced to work in.

Dammit!  Napoleon was a man, a man!  He wasn’t a cat, but it seemed that the longer he was stuck as one the more he thought like one.  He felt disappointed because Illya wouldn’t let him play with that stupid plants leaves.  He should be disappointed with himself for letting his animal instincts take over.  He had to hold on to his humanity. 

Napoleon took out his frustrations on the scratching post in the corner.

Soon Napoleon heard the sound of food being poured into a bowl and went over to investigate.  He sniffed at the food and then dug in.  It was still cat food, but there was something about it that was far more enjoyable than the food Illya normally fed him.

“Do you like it here?” Illya asked while he ran his hand along Napoleon’s back.  Napoleon loved the way that felt and pushed against Illya’s hand trying to get more contact.  If only he could feel that hand run itself along his human skin.  He had to try to focus on Illya’s question and not lose himself to the feeling of Illya’s hands against him.

_It feels different,_ Napoleon admitted.  He wasn’t sure how else to describe his feeling about the place.

“Different how?” Illya asked.

_Not as warm, or safe as home,_ was all Napoleon could come up with as an explanation.  Thinking about it made him feel anxious, as if focusing on his fears meant that whatever he was afraid of would burst out of the shadows.  Illya wrapped Napoleon in his arms and tried to assuage his worries.

“You will be safe with me,” Illya told him.  Hearing that made Napoleon feel better, he began to purr and kept it up until Illya had to begin working.

Napoleon didn’t let Illya work for long.  He kept pestering the man for his attention.  He kept it up until he heard the door open.  Napoleon panicked and bolted for the tiny space Illya used as a break room.  Napoleon heard Illya greet the visitor.  It sounded like a friendly conversation, but Napoleon didn’t want to venture back out into the main room.  Illya came to check on him.  He looked relieved, he must have been worried when Napoleon disappeared.  He asked if Napoleon wanted to wait in the back until the man in the other room left.  Napoleon told him yes.  Illya left and shut the door, but was back a moment later.  He entered the breakroom with his jacket.  He arranged it on a chair and helped Napoleon get comfortable.  Once Napoleon was comfortable Illya left the room again.

Napoleon felt much more secure in wrapped up in Illya’s jacket.  He loved that Illya thought to do this for him.  After the post man left Illya help Napoleon get comfortable on the mailroom counter.  Napoleon was a lot calmer since Illya let him continue to use his jacket as a blanket.

As Napoleon lay wrapped up in Illya’s jacket watching the man work Gaby came in.  When Napoleon had first met her he hadn’t liked her, mostly he hadn’t liked the attention Illya gave her, but now he had to admit he was thankful to her.  She had after all gotten permission for Napoleon to come to work with Illya.  Napoleon let her pet him and shower him with attention.

“Hello, Pasha,” she said when she scratched behind his ear.  “Are you enjoying your first day of work?”

He voiced his opinion so that Illya could hear him.

_This is so much better than being alone in the apartment.  Illya has a very boring job though._

Napoleon could tell Illya was happy and began to purr.  If Gaby thought it was for her that was fine.  He needed to thank her anyway for all that she’d done for him.

“He seem to enjoy the food Mr. Waverly bought him,” Illya told Gaby.  Napoleon wondered if that bothered Illya, after all the food Illya bought was the best he could afford.

“That’s because he bought the expensive stuff,” Gaby said.  “Your cat has expensive taste.”  Of course he did, he was Napoleon Solo, but that wasn’t good news for Illya.  “He definitely wasn’t always an alley cat,” Gaby added.

That made Napoleon nervous, he was still skittish about what had happened to him and he hadn’t told Illya.  He wanted to and Illya was getting better at understanding him, but how should he bring that up?  Good morning Illya, by the way I used to be an art thief and my last mark turned out to be a powerful witch and turned me into a cat.  No that wouldn’t do.  Napoleon glanced over at Illya and saw the man wrapped up in his own worries.

“What’s wrong?” Gaby asked.  She seemed just as concerned about Illya.

_Illya?_ Napoleon asked.  Illya snapped out of his thoughts and came up to the counter, he began to pet Napoleon.  He could tell that Illya was trying to comfort him, but he thought Illya was the one who needed comfort.

“He is jumpy,” Illya said.  “He has been hurt before.  If he had owner, perhaps they hurt him.”  Napoleon had definitely been hurt, but not by a cruel pet owner.  Gaby let out a concerned noise and scooped Napoleon up into her arms.  She treated him like an upset child that needed comforting.  Napoleon wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

“I’m so sorry Pasha,” she told him.  “But, I know Illya won’t hurt you and I’ll make sure he takes care of you.  You don’t have to be afraid of anything anymore.”

That was a sentiment Napoleon could agree with.  He hoped Illya knew how much he appreciated everything he was doing for him.  If he ever became human again Napoleon was going to do everything he could do to pay Illya back.  Gaby spent a while longer with Illya and Napoleon.  She chatted with Illya and held Napoleon.  Her arms didn’t feel as safe and comforting as Illya’s but Napoleon definitely didn’t feel uncomfortable.  After she left Illya focused his attention on Napoleon.

“I have to thank you,” Illya told him.  Napoleon asked him why.  “I did not have friends before, Gaby and I were never close, but now I have you both.  It is good to not be alone.”

Napoleon let Illya know that he had never been happier and it was true.  He wanted to be human again, but he wasn’t sure he could go back to his old life.  There was nothing his old life could give him that could compare to what he had now, except maybe hands and lips he could hold kiss Illya with. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to express my continued appreciation of all you're lovely comments. They make me happy and I'm glad you're enjoying this story so much.


	9. Illya

Work was much more enjoyable for Illya with Pasha by his side.  It was great to have company, but there was a problem.  Since Pasha started coming to work with Illya the mailroom was inundated with visitors.  It seems Gaby had told everyone in the building that there was a cat in the mailroom.  After the news got out it seemed that every woman in the building took time out of their day to come to visit Illya and Pasha.  Many of them brought things with them, mostly cat toys or cans of food.  If it kept up Illya was sure he was never going to have to buy Pasha anything again.  He was also sure that Pasha would gain too much weight for Illya to hide him in his jacket. 

Pasha cared little about his potential weight gain or even the toys brought.  Instead he basked in all of the attention.  At first he had been nervous with the constant stream of woman, darting into the breakroom every time the door opened.  Illya was sure he had been on the lookout for the witch woman he was so afraid of.  The stream of visitors became so regular that after a few of days Pasha seemed to recognize all of the women that came to visit him.  He stopped running away to hide and instead let them coo over him and shower him with affection.  It ate away at Illya’s patience.  The few of them that acknowledged his existence shied away after speaking to him.  Pasha told him he needed to be friendlier, but Illya wasn’t sure he could.  He’d never been treated kindly.  He was unsure of how to respond to people treating him well.  He would much rather they focus that attention on Pasha, except a part Illya didn’t want them to pay attention to Pasha.  Illya was jealous.  Pasha was his, not the property of the building, these women didn’t have the right to interrupt his work day to try and steal his cat.

Illya tried to ignore the interlopers.  It wasn’t easy for him.  He often found himself with a white knuckle grip on the counter desperately trying to block out the voices of the countless women that came to fawn over Pasha.  One day Illya had managed to crack the wood that made up the mail slots.  He had startled himself, Pasha, and the woman that had come to see him.  He had been so embarrassed that he ran and hide himself in the back room.  He paced the room like an anxious animal until Pasha snagged his attention. 

Illya found himself enjoying his time alone with Pasha all the more now that it was so precious.  It was nice to go home where it was just him and Pasha.  No Gaby, no women, just Illya and Pasha.  The two of them could share a meal, relax, and listen to Illya’s record collection.  Illya’s favorite thing to do was to lie on the couch with Pasha on his chest, warm and purring.  Pasha seemed to enjoy these moments as much as Illya and it made the man just that much happier with the arrangement.

He was happier when the flow of visitors started to peter off.  Illya had fewer distractions and reasons to get angry.  More importantly Illya had more alone time with Pasha.  Although cat food kept appearing in the mailroom. 

Gaby had taken to inviting Illya and Pasha to have lunch with her.  On one of the days Illya had taken Pasha up to Gaby’s office for lunch he came back to find at least a dozen cans of cat food on the mailroom counter.  A couple of those cans were ones Pasha seemed to really enjoy.  Illya was certain at this point that Pasha was going to get fat.  He was about to mention this to Pasha when he realized that he was tensed up on the counter, he was staring intently at the door to the mailroom.  Illya turned to face the door and put himself between Pasha and whatever he was afraid of.  Standing in at the door, leaning against the door frame like the arrogant prick he was, was Alexander Vinciguerra.  This was the same man who regularly did his best to test Illya’s nerves.  The same man that had gotten Illya to punch a hole in the wall on the third floor.

“You do not belong here,” Illya told the man.  He felt anger already begin to boil inside of him, he felt his hands begin to shake.  He clenched them to try and hide the tremors.

“I heard you brought a beast into the building,” the man said.  He leered at Illya and looked disgusted at the idea of an animal in the building. 

Illya felt his short nails dig into the flesh of his hands.  This man always made Illya see red and Illya was quickly losing what little patience he had for dealing with him.  He had no right to criticize Pasha. 

“You do not belong here,” Illya said again.

“That animal does not belong here,” Vinciguerra said with a sneer.  “It’s filthy and flea infested.  It should have been drowned in a river, not brought into a place of business to be paraded around like a proper pet.”

Illya lost it.  His temper exploded.  Vinciguerra fled as Illya launched a mail cart at him.  There wasn’t much furniture in the mailroom, but Illya threw it all against the walls in his rage.  He didn’t calm until he had violently displaced everything he could.  He panted and surveyed the damage.  It didn’t look good, this may be the thing that got Illya fired.  After a moment Illya realized there was something missing, Pasha was nowhere to be seen.  Illya began a frantic search for the cat all the while calling his name.  He finally found him cowering behind a cabinet in the break room.  Illya tried to reach out for him, but Pasha pushed himself further into his hiding place.

“Oh, Pasha,” Illya said, feeling his heart break.  “I will not hurt you.  I promise.”

Illya sat on the floor leaning against the wall.  He positioned himself so that he could peer at Pasha in his hiding place.  Illya felt like crying.  He’d done it again.  He had lost control and frightened away his only real friend.  Illya curled in on himself, trying to make his massive body as small as possible. 

“I am sorry Pasha,” he said.  He could hear his voice shake from the strain of his unshed tears.  “I lose control when I am angry.  I always have.  It protected me as a child, but…” he trailed off, unsure of how to continue.  “I will never hurt you,” he said after a moment, turning his full focus onto Pasha.  “I will never hurt you.  It would kill me.”

Illya hoped Pasha believed him.  He couldn’t go back to being alone.  He needed Pasha, he would be devastated if Pasha never trusted him ever again.  He felt a massive wave of relief wash over him as Pasha slowly crawled out of his hiding place.  Illya almost sobbed in relief when Pasha rubbed his head against his hand.  Illya scooped Pasha up and held him as close and tight as he possibly could.

“I am so sorry,” he said into Pasha’s fur.  He repeated it over and over again, like a mantra.  He sat like that with Pasha for what felt like an eternity.

 _I forgive you_ , Pasha said after a while.  _I trust you.  Please, do not let that man come for me._

“What?” Illya asked.  He felt so relieved that Pasha forgave him for his outburst, but he was also confused.  Then Illya remembered that Pasha had been afraid the moment Vinciguerra came into the mailroom.

 _He belongs to the witch woman,_ Pasha said.  Illya tensed.  No wonder Pasha had been so afraid.  The witch woman was what frightened Pasha more than anything and if Vinciguerra and she were connected than Pasha could be in trouble.  Illya wouldn’t let anything happen to Pasha.

“I will protect you,” Illya said with as much conviction as he possibly could.  He continued to hold Pasha close to his chest.

 _There is something I need to tell you,_ Pasha said. 

“What is it?” Illya asked.

 _Not here,_ Pasha said.  _At home where it’s safe._

Illya nodded in agreement.  He wanted Pasha to be comfortable.  If that meant waiting until they got home then so be it.  Illya just wanted to sit there and hold Pasha, or even just go home early, but he knew he couldn’t.  He needed to at least start cleaning up the mess he had made in the other room.  He sighed and loosened his grip on Pasha.

“I need to clean up my mess,” Illya said.  “Will you be alright if I set you down?”

Pasha seemed unsure, but he did agree to be let down.  Illya found his jacket and let Pasha use it as a bed in the back.  He made sure Pasha was comfortable, giving him one last scratch on the head before going back into the main room and starting to pick up.  It took him the rest of the day to put what he could back in order.  The mail cart was now crooked and he had managed to break a chair in his earlier rage.  Illya sighed and moved the debris to the side before collecting Pasha and heading home.

At the apartment Pasha stuck close to Illya’s side as he made and ate dinner.  When he was finished and the pair of them were comfortable on the couch Pasha told him a story.

Pasha hadn’t always been a cat.  Up until recently he had been a man named Napoleon Solo.  He had been an art thief, a fact that didn’t sit well with Illya.  That wasn’t the important part of the story though.  The important part was that Napoleon had tried to steal from the wrong woman.  He had flirted with her, gained her confidence, and access to all of her valuables.  He had spent weeks waiting for the perfect opportunity, when it finally came he set into motion.  The problem was that Victoria, the beautiful woman he had been trying to steal from, had come home early.  She had caught Napoleon in the middle of the job.  Napoleon soon found out that Victoria, was not just a financially powerful woman, but a magically powerful one as well.  She had struck Napoleon with a blast of energy as he tried to make his escape. 

It had hurt, but Napoleon thought that was the end of it.  He had escaped and while he hurt from the shock of whatever Victoria had done to him, he thought he would be fine.  The pain only grew worse as the hours passed.  Finally unable to stand the pain anymore Napoleon had lost consciousness, when he awoke he found he had become a cat.  He spent weeks wondering the streets stealing food out of garbage cans before Illya found him and brought him into his home.

Illya wasn’t sure how to feel once Pasha, Napoleon, was done with his story.  It had been sad that Illya’s only real friend had been a cat, but now it turns out his friend wasn’t a cat at all, but an art thief.  As hard as Illya’s life had been, he had never turned to crime.  He thought poorly of those who stole when they easily find work to support themselves.  IF he could manage, why couldn’t they?  Pasha, no Napoleon, was a thief.  Just the idea went against what Illya believed in, but Pasha wasn’t bad.  Illya cared deeply about Pasha and Pasha was Napoleon.  Pasha’s human could be just as kind to Illya as his cat self.   

Illya stood and began pacing the room.  Pasha, Napoleon, sat on the couch and watched him.  He was curled in on himself and as deep into the corner of the couch as he possibly manage.

“You were thief,” Illya finally said turning to Pasha, Napoleon.  Pasha/Napoleon, the cat stared up at Illya, he seemed frightened.

Illya felt his heart break at the sight of P- Napoleon cowering in fear of him.  It was true he was a thief, but he was still the only friend Illya had ever had.  If he stayed a cat he could never steal again and Illya could keep his friend, but… was that really fair.  Could he really be so selfish?  He knelt down in front of Pa- Napoleon.  He watched Napoleon try and squeeze himself further into the couch. 

“I will not hurt you,” Illya said.  “I could never hurt you, even if you are a thief.”

Pash- Napoleon seemed to relax minutely.  He still held a lot of tension in his small body.  Illya stretched out his hand slowly and began to scratch behind Pa- Napoleon’s ear.  Illya sighed.

“You have stolen me,” Illya told him.  It would take Illya awhile to get used to using Pasha’s real name.  Napoleon finally relaxed completely and uncurled himself.  He rubbed his face against Illya’s and purred.

 _You stole me as well,_ Napoleon said.  _I wish I could hold you._

“I cannot make you human again,” Illya said.  He wished he could, but it was hard enough for him to communicate with Napoleon, there was no way he could change him from a cat back into a man.  Maybe they could find a way.  Illya would miss Pasha, but Napoleon shouldn’t be forced to live the rest of his life as a cat.  He would try and find a way to turn Napoleon back. 

That night the two of them fell asleep on the couch together, Illya’s arms wrapped around Napoleon.  He would keep his promise.  He would protect Napoleon, but he would also do his best to get Napoleon his old body back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big reveal finally happened. I hope you enjoyed it. As always I appreciate the comments. I look at them when I've had a bad day and it's makes feel better knowing something I made made other people happy. The little notifications I get sent about kudos are also great.
> 
> I hope you all had a great Valentine's day.


	10. Napoleon

Napoleon loved going to work with Illya.  At first it had been nerve wracking.  He wasn’t sure if it was safe.  He knew it didn’t feel as safe as Illya’s apartment.  He grew to love it though.  It seemed all of the women in the building had heard about Napoleon and insisted on coming to see him.  Napoleon basked in all of the attention.  He had been anxious at first, afraid Victoria would come waltzing through that door.  He ran in hid at the sound of footsteps just outside the door.  Illya always found him and convinced him to come out.  The visitor was never Victoria.  Instead there was a parade of women, half of whom used the excuse of seeing him as a reason to actually come and see Illya.

Illya seemed uncomfortable with all of the attention.  He had clearly lived a lonely life before Napoleon had come into his life and Napoleon found it entertaining to watch him struggle with all of the positive attention.  He had told Illya he needed to be friendlier, but soon Napoleon started to get jealous when gifts began arriving along with the woman.  Sure, these gifts were in the form of cat food and toy mice, things for Napoleon, but they were a way to impress Illya.  These women knew that Illya cared about Napoleon and hoped that by showing they also cared about Napoleon, Illya would care about them. 

Napoleon quickly started to hate it.  He preened when they focused on him instead of Illya.  Illya was his, not theirs.  They could pay attention to him, but they better leave Illya alone.  Illya went home at night with Napoleon and not any of those women.  They weren’t important, Napoleon was.  He refused to let any of them take Illya away from him.  If Napoleon was human he could more easily stake his claim, but unfortunately he was a cat.  It was hard for a cat to keep hordes of women away from an attractive man, but Napoleon wasn’t willing to give up.   

At least Napoleon had Illya all to himself once they were at home.  He could watch Illya play chess, curl up with him while they listened to music, and have all of Illya’s attention focused on him and him alone.  Sure, it would be better if he were human, but Napoleon would take what he could get.  It made him feel great that Illya only seemed to truly be happy when they were alone together, but it also increased his longing to be human again.  He would give anything to  be human and run his hands along Illya’s skin, to hold him in his arms, and to see that beautiful smile directed at him and know it could lead to something more.

After a while the number of visitors trickled down.  Illya and Napoleon both enjoyed the return of their alone time.  Although Napoleon had to admit he enjoyed that food for him continued to appear in the mailroom, even if it was some woman’s attempt at wooing Illya.  The food was far better than what Illya could buy.  The gifts of cat food meant that Napoleon could eat well without putting a strain on Illya’s finances.  Napoleon was admiring the stack of cans that awaited his and Illya’s return from a lunch spent with Gaby when he felt unease sneak up on him.  He looked towards the door and froze.

There, leaning against the doorframe, was Alexander Vinciguerra, Victoria’s husband.  Napoleon had met him several times while he was trying to work his way onto Victoria’s good side.  The man wasn’t much, he had given Victoria the money she flaunted, but she was in control of everything.  He was little more than an arrogant fancy window dressing, but he was still connected to Victoria.  He could bring her attention back to Napoleon.  He couldn’t be safe anymore.  The happy life he had with Illya was over.

“You do not belong here,” Napoleon heard Illya say.  He finally pulled his attention away from the man at the door. 

Illya had come to fill the space between Vinciguerra and Napoleon, as if he intended to shield Napoleon.  His hands were clenched tightly and Napoleon could see the tension in his body.  Napoleon began to worry.  He had thought Victoria to be little more than an over privileged woman, but she had turned him into a cat.  He had no idea what her husband was capable of.  He could hurt Illya and there was nothing Napoleon could do to stop him.

“I heard you brought a beast into the building,” Vinciguerra said.  He looked at Illya as if he was a piece of garbage.  It started to replace Napoleon’s fear with anger.  This man had no right to look down on Illya.  Illya was a far better person than Vinciguerra could ever hope to be.

“You do not belong here,” Illya said again.

“That animal does not belong here,” Vinciguerra said with a sneer.  “It’s filthy and flea infested.  It should have been drowned in a river, not brought into a place of business to be paraded around like a proper pet.”

At these words Illya flew into a rage unlike anything Napoleon had ever seen before.  He threw the mail cart at Vinciguerra and continued to devastate the room after the man had fled.  Napoleon himself fled into the tiny space Illya used as a breakroom.  He hid himself between the cabinet and the wall.  He huddled as far back into his hiding place as he could.  He heard horrifying sounds of destruction coming from the other room.  Napoleon knew Illya had a temper.  He’d seen the man shake with the effort to restrain himself before.  Illya tried to hide it, but Napoleon saw it anyway. 

What Napoleon heard coming from the other room now was nothing like those other moments.  This was an Illya Napoleon had never seen.  An Illya that terrified Napoleon.  Despite his moments of contained rage Illya had always been kind.  He had never acted violently in front of Napoleon.  Napoleon was terrified.  How would Illya react when he found out Napoleon wasn’t really a cat? 

After what felt like an eternity there was a deafening silence, Illya must have settled.  A moment later the silence was broken by Illya calling out for him.  He came into the break room and spotted Napoleon in his hiding place.  Napoleon startled and pressed himself as far as he could into his hiding place.

“Oh, Pasha,” Illya said, a sadness greater than his earlier anger in his eyes.  “I will not hurt you.  I promise.”

Illya sat himself so that he could keep an eye on Napoleon in his hiding place.  He looked so sad and defeated, Napoleon felt something break inside of him at the sight of it.  He looked so broken right it was hard to believe he was responsible for the devastation in the other room.  How could Napoleon be afraid of him?  Napoleon was afraid because Illya had gone off like a gun and ripped through the other room like a hurricane.  Now though, Illya looked like his whole world had been ripped away from him and it had been.  Illya only had Napoleon and Napoleon had just rejected him.    

He was all Illya had and now he had broken his heart.  The man had only been trying to protect him.  Illya had flown into that rage because of the things Vinciguerra had said about Napoleon.  He hadn’t intended to frighten Napoleon, he had meant to scare away Vinciguerra.  Illya curled in on himself, making his large frame seem impossibly small.  Napoleon wondered if cats could cry, he felt he might find out soon.

“I am sorry Pasha,” Illya said, he sounded so broken.  “I lose control when I am angry.  I always have.  It protected me as a child, but…”  Illya trailed off and Napoleon knew he would forgive him.  “I will never hurt you,” Illya said his eyes focused on Napoleon.  “I will never hurt you.  It would kill me.”

Napoleon inched out of his hiding place and watched relief wash over Illya.  He rubbed his head against Illya’s hand and didn’t protest when the man scooped him up and held him close.  He still felt safe in Illya’s arms, even after seeing what they could do.  He heard and felt Illya mumble apologies into his fur.  They sat together like that for a while before Napoleon finally spoke.

_I forgive you.  I trust you.  Please, do not let that man come for me._

“What?” Illya asked.

_He belongs to the witch woman_ , Napoleon explained.  He felt Illya tense around him.  He seemed to understand why Napoleon was so afraid.

“I will protect you,” Illya said.  Napoleon could almost feel the conviction of his words, as if Illya was pushing his magic into them.

_There is something I need to tell you_

“What is it?” Illya asked.

_Not here.  At home where it is safe._

Illya agreed and Napoleon felt relieved.  He hadn’t wanted to go into his story here and definitely not now.  Illya loosened his hold on Napoleon.  Napoleon started to feel frightened again.

“I need to clean up my mess,” Illya said.  “Will you be alright if I set you down?”

Napoleon wasn’t sure.  He hesitated but did agree.  If he stayed back here anyone who wanted to hurt him would have to go through Illya first and Illya could clearly handle himself.  Illya grabbed his jacket so that Napoleon could use it as a bed.  Napoleon made sure he positioned it so that he could watch Illya work through the door.  As much as he wanted to be safe, he also didn’t want Illya hurt.  There wasn’t much he could do for Illya, after all he was a cat, but it made him feel better knowing he could keep an eye on Illya.

The other room was such a mess.  It took Illya the rest of the day to clean it up.  It still wasn’t what it was before though.  The mail cart was askew and a chair was broken.  There was also an awful lot of damage to the walls.  There was no way it could go unnoticed.  Napoleon wondered what this would mean for Illya’s job.  Would he be fired?  What would they do if that happened?  Illya finished moving things out of the way and collected Napoleon so that they could go home.

At home Napoleon stuck like glue to Illya.  He knew they were safe in their home, but Napoleon still didn’t want to let the man out of his sight.  It would be safer if they stuck together.  He watched Illya make his dinner, eat his dinner, and get comfortable on the couch before he told Illya his story.

He told Illya that his name was Napoleon Solo and he hadn’t always been a cat.  He had been a dashing art thief, infamous the world over.  He had been cocky and over confident when he met Victoria Vinciguerra.  He had flirted and wormed his way into her confidence.  He waited for the perfect opportunity to sneak into her home and make off with all of her classic paintings and fine jewels.  When the opportunity presented itself Napoleon took it.  Unfortunately, Victoria had come home early that night, or maybe Napoleon had been too greedy and taken too long.  Either way, he had been caught red handed.

He dove for the window he had come through.  Before he got there he felt something hit him.  It felt like he had been hit with a massive surge of electricity and the pain was excruciating.  Napoleon had made it out though.  He counted his lucky stars and made his way back to the hotel he had been using as a base for his operation.  The pain from whatever Victoria had done to him only grew worse as time passed.  It became so unbearable that he finally lost consciousness.  When he awoke he was in the body of a cat.  A cat that had been chased out of his hotel room by the cleaning lady.

Napoleon had spent two weeks wondering the streets desperate for food.  He dug through the garbage and stole from people’s balconies and window sills.  He was hungry, miserable, and filthy by the time Illya found him.  He had given up hope of finding a kind enough person to lend him a hand, but then Illya had surprised him.  Illya had taken pity on him and brought Napoleon into his life and home.  Napoleon couldn’t be more grateful.

When Napoleon finished his story Illya sprang from his seat and began to pace the floor.  Napoleon felt afraid again.  Perhaps now that he knew the truth Illya wouldn’t be so kind.  He might just throw Napoleon out with the garbage and be done with him.  Napoleon wasn’t sure he could blame him, but he wanted desperately for Illya to continue to be kind to him.  He didn’t want to go back to the streets and he definitely didn’t want to lose Illya.

“You were thief,” Illya finally said focusing his attention on Napoleon.  Napoleon stared wide eyed up at Illya.

This was bad.  Illya was going to throw him out.  Napoleon tried to press as far into the couch as possible as if that would allow him to stay.  If he anchored himself to the spot Illya wouldn’t be able to kick him out, he would have no choice but to let Napoleon stay.  Napoleon felt his heart race when Illya knelt in front of him.  It wasn’t in the good way he imagined it would when he finally got to show Illya his human body.   Napoleon was terrified.

“I will not hurt you,” Illya said.  Napoleon couldn’t believe it.  “I could never hurt you, even if you are thief.”

Napoleon couldn’t believe what he was hearing, Illya wasn’t angry with him.  He wouldn’t be throwing Napoleon out to fend for himself on the streets.  Illya stretched out his hand to scratch behind Napoleon’s ear, Napoleon let him, but didn’t completely relax.

“You have stolen me,” Illya said.  He sounded so sincere.  It was as if admitting his love to Napoleon.  Napoleon finally relaxed.  He loosened himself from the tight ball he had become and rubbed his face against Illya’s.  He purred, glad that things had turned out well.  Happy that the truth hadn’t turned Illya against him.

_You stole me as well,_ Napoleon told Illya.  He wanted Illya to know that he cared just as deeply for him.  There was only one problem, he was still a cat.  _I wish I could hold you._

“I cannot make you human again,” Illya told him in return.

Napoleon knew that.  It had been such a struggle for Illya to learn to communicate with him.  He couldn’t image how hard it would be for Illya to turn him into a human again.  Victoria was clearly both powerful and well trained.  Illya was not trained at all.  Napoleon could be stuck forever as a cat.

Illya made himself comfortable on the couch, his arms wrapped around Napoleon.  Napoleon felt safe, despite all that had happened today.  He was safe and Illya still cared for him.  Life was good, or at least as good as it could get given Napoleon’s current condition.  Maybe, someday they could find a way to change Napoleon back, until then Napoleon would be happy with what he had.  He had Illya and a safe place to call home.  He could be content with this at least for now.

The two of them fell asleep together on the couch that night.  It was the safest and most comfortable Napoleon had ever been in his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, a bonus chapter. This is partially to apologize for going so long between posts and to say thank you for the positive feedback. Mostly though, I really wanted to post this chapter and the last as close together as possible. I had really wanted to post them at the same time, but unfortunately that didn't happen. 
> 
> Things are about to change for our boys and I hope you continue to enjoy this story.


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